


I do know two things

by Analinea, dapatty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Collaboration, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 20-30 Minutes, Stiles makes an appearance, also one part inspired by one day at a time, background sterek, inspired by gokushufudo, others are mentionned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-07-09 22:23:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19895302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: Allison just wants to plan the perfect date for her wife, but everything goes wrong...well, until it doesn't.





	I do know two things

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you for the people behind this event, I'd been dying to participate in one again! And all the love to my partner <3
> 
> Title is from a Night Vale quote!

Cover Art by dapatty.

| 

## Streaming Audio

## Downloads

  * [MP3](http://dapatty.parakaproductions.com/2019/I%20Do%20Know%20Two%20Things.mp3) | **Size:** 17 MB | **Duration:** 00:26:29
  * [Mobile Streaming Click Here](http://dapatty.parakaproductions.com/2019/I%20Do%20Know%20Two%20Things.mp3)

  
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Before the alarm can even start beeping, Allison, already awake, is deactivating it. She has an important job to do.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she runs a hand through her thick brown hair and gathers it in a high, professional ponytail that will keep them out of her way. She takes her clothes -already prepared the night before- to the bathroom to get ready; the mirror reflects without mercy a few nasty scars that she wears like badges of honor.

Once washed, she dresses herself in a skintight black outfit that leaves no opportunity for anyone to grab her, but is comfortable enough to move around in. But she doesn't feel complete yet, not without the serrated knife she keeps in its sheath on her bedside table -this she clasps to her belt- and the combat boots that she laces just outside the bedroom.

There. She gets up, takes a deep breath.  _ Now _ her day can begin.

Stepping carefully on the wooden floor to stay silent is second nature when you've spent your whole life stalking deathly creatures. She takes full advantage of that training on her way to the kitchen, where she can move around a little more freely; the tiles on the floor there are better than the creaking floorboards that make up the rest of the apartment -they also make messy jobs easier to clean, and for that Allison is grateful. She's had a few rough moments in there.

But she's learned better now. For one, she decided to invest in some fancy tools that make everything a little more easy. It makes her smile every time she sets her eyes on them, especially the knives that can cut through muscle and bone like butter and that she maintains sharp and shiny. Her life is made better by their presence in it.

She approaches them after having laid out everything she needs on the counter, wiggles her fingers a little as she considers which one is appropriate to do this. She needs a delicate one...the four inches paring knife. Yes, it'll do nicely. She grabs it, appreciates the weight of it in her hand. She never gets tired of lightly running her finger on the sharp edge of it and feel her skin just short of giving and showing blood.

Allison turns to her target with a smile, the anticipation of starting this making her heart beat faster. Thinking about the satisfaction that will come with the result she already expects to be perfect sends shivers up her spine. 

Just as she's about to get started though, a shrill cry makes her freeze. Has she not been careful enough to stay quiet?

“I'm late!” comes the shout for the bedroom, and Allison glances in confusion at the clock over the door just as Lydia runs into the living room, looking pristine -Allison still hasn't unlocked the supernatural mystery of how her wife can always be so impeccable no matter the circumstances. But Allison wasn't even aware Lydia was supposed to get off to work this early.

Lydia stops at the door to the kitchen, keys and bag in hand, looks at the scene in front of her with an air of regret. “I don't have time for this,” she declares, lands a quick peck on Allison's cheek and one on her lips, and she's gone.

Allison looks down at the sweet potato in her hand, and mourns the breakfast she had been planning to prepare for weeks now -ever since she saw that special recipe on a blog she follows.

Little does she know that it’s just the start of a very annoying trend of foiled plans.

**1: When the Bestå got the best of her**

When it comes to assembling furniture, Allison isn't a débutante -as they like to call the young ones in her family business- by any means.

Just like hunting, she assesses her target from afar first, reads the manual, visualizes every step separating her from her goal.

Her goal, this time, is a storage combination with two glass doors that Lydia agreed on only because Allison has been dying to try her hands on anything from Ikea.

So with Lydia's blessing, they try to decide on what to get from the website.

“I guess the dinner set my mom got us for Christmas has to go somewhere, the kitchen is starting to look clustered,” Lydia ponders, tapping a finger on her lips.

“I know exactly what we need then,” Allison answers, flashing a happy smile at her wife and turning to the computer to enter some keywords.

Lydia looks back at her with an amused expression. “I don't even know why you want this so much when we have a perfectly fine store closer to the house. They have the best things and Ikea furniture will clash with what he already have,” she pouts. Of the two of them, she’s the most invested in decorating, though Allison is the one to keep everything spotless. 

“It'll be fine,” Allison argues distractedly, “you're just being dramatic. Everyone gets stuff from there at least once in their lives! Aren't you even a little bit curious?”

Lydia turns to her on the couch, faking an offended look, “Honey, I do research for a living, of course I'm curious! Just– not about  _ this _ .”

Allison laughs, knowing full well that Lydia doesn't really care or she'd have fought her harder on it. “Well, look at this as a research opportunity.”

And research she does, comparing models and prices and by the time they're done, they're both falling asleep on the couch.

“Had fun?” Allison asks, chuckling softly then sneezing when Lydia's hair tickles her nose.

“Hmm,” Lydia agrees vaguely, “I've done my part. Let's get to bed, I asked for an early meeting tomorrow so we could have the evening free for our date.”

“We need a real vacation together,” Allison grumbles a little, loving date night but wanting a little more real quality romantic time together.

“We really do,” Lydia sighs.

Allison checks the time and swears softly. It's almost seven, and she's now officially late for date night -she won't live to see another day.

“What's your excuse?” Lydia haughtily sniffs into the phone. Thankfully they had planned on meeting at home or Allison would’ve never heard the end of it. 

Allison sighs, looking up at her too-high target on the self-service shelf, then down at the cart of too many useless things next to her; she has everything from a can opener to a spatula. She's used to being hyper focused, not letting any distraction split her attention -Ikea is, apparently, stronger than hunter's training.

But that's not really the issue here, she thinks as her gaze comes to rest on the small person watching her with big, nervous eyes.

“I've been blackmailed by a mandragora,” she says to her wife. The silence on the other end of the line stretches a little too long for comfort.

Then Lydia snorts. “Retirement is never what you expect isn't it?”

“It's not funny!” Allison cries out.

She's just spent a day feeling like something was off with the Ikea employees who were following her around constantly, until she came to the market hall and the reason why became clear. Ikea is just filled with supernatural creatures -it makes an awful lot of sense in retrospect.

“Silver Allison?” a small figure had squeaked from behind a shelf, gesturing at her to come closer and immediately ignoring all her attempts to tell him she's not in the hunting business anymore.

“I just–” she says to Lydia, “it's embarrassing, okay?”

Lydia laughs, “Why, because you're a kick-ass hunter that’s just been bested by a small familiar demon?”

“Well, yes!” Allison exclaims, then softer, “he refused to help me get the Bestå if I didn't settle a salary dispute with his partner. His witch partner.”

Lydia hums, “You're also the biggest softy, you know that's why I love you, right?”

Allison's shoulders relax immediately. “I know,” she pouts into the phone, still a little miffed about the whole thing.

“Okay, get the Bestå and come back home,” Lydia says, smile evident in her voice, “we'll do date night another time.”

“Right. Okay...okay, love you.” Allison hangs up and turns to Duke, the blackmailing mandragora. “Well, it's closing soon so...?” she prompts him. She takes a deep breath while Duke scrambles to levitate the box down from the high shelf with his powers. 

As soon as she gets home, she'll plan the best date to make it up to Lydia, she promises to herself. 

**2: When things got out of hound**

Allison is not a hunter anymore. Deciding to retire from the life hadn't been sudden and impulsive -she is everything but that, not since she's learned from her teenage mistakes. After a long discussion with Lydia, it had been settled: they’d get married before Lydia started her big job, then Allison would take a break from hunting.

But taking care of the house had grown on her; the various tasks weirdly reminded her of the values of the Argent family -once she’d been the matriarch anyway. So she decided to keep doing it.

Where, once upon a time, Allison used to prepare for dangerous meetings with brutal and distrustful hunter families, now she prepares the house for her date with Lydia. Where she had to use her powers of persuasion and her best poker face, now she keeps her plans secret to surprise Lydia. And, of course, the minutious skill of cleaning up blood and fingerprints is very useful to keep a house spotless.

To be fair, Lydia isn’t mad at her, but Allison still wants to make it up to her for the whole Ikea debacle. She can't lie and say she regrets it, though: she's very proud of the Bestå.

So, to say that everything is perfect for the night is an understatement. There's a worrying amount of candles, the best home-made food and expensive red wine on the table, and some music at the ready.

It's ten minutes before Lydia's supposed to arrive. Allison is freshly showered and dressed to the nines -a flowery dress that Lydia  _ adores _ on her, knife strapped to her thigh just out of sight, hair done like Lydia taught her.

Time stands still. Every hair on Allison's arms stand up. 

The next minutes are a blur:  _ something _ crashes through the door that shouldn't be opened in the first place– Allison unsheathes her knife and takes a defensive position. The thing's shrieks are deafening. She has a second to wonder what kind of creature this is and who could've possibly unleashed it on her -she tries to think but there's no one still alive that would want revenge on her.

Whatever it is, it's too fast to track, catch, or simply get a good look at it: all Allison can do is watch the disaster unfold. Food flies through the air, wine crashes to the ground and is tracked all over the floor like a burgundy crime scene.

Allison, eyes wide in horror, drops her knife and tries to save the house by diving after every candle that is knocked to the ground, including the one on the table that she has to slide on her back to catch, smearing wine all over and staining her dress.

She doesn’t have time to catch her breath that a mighty crash makes her wince; she turns her head just in time for the cooking pot, where the main dish is kept warm, to topple to the ground in slow motion. Sauce and meat seem suspended mid-air before gravity takes hold again and it splashes the whole kitchen and sprays what little of her skin wasn’t already stained by the wine.

The hell creature yips in fright at the sound and slams so hard into a window trying to escape it knocks itself out. Allison can't help being a little concerned for it.

Carefully so she doesn't slip in the puddle she's been lying in, she gets up on -she realizes with a little embarrassment- trembling legs to approach the thing.

Rounding the table, she freezes at the sight in front of her. It's a…

It's a dog. That's pretty anticlimactic, she thinks, already reaching for her phone to call Deaton.

Of course, that's when Lydia opens the door.

“Do I want to know?” she asks, perfect eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Allison turns to her slowly, shrugs with an innocent, bashful smile. “I absolutely can’t explain.”

“Next one'll be perfect,” Allison yawns into Lydia's neck.

Lydia hums in response, breath already sleep deep. “'re perfect,” she slurs, a cheesiness she never indulges in during her waking hours. Smiling and blushing, Allison chuckles and settles better against her before falling asleep too, already dreaming of the next date night she’ll plan. 

  
  
  


**3: When there was an inside joke**

In hindsight, maybe Allison shouldn't have gotten close to the dog again. 

It's Lydia's day off and they intend to spend it at that perfect spot in the Preserve that is only theirs: it’s where Allison proposed to her, a warm autumn afternoon, air still smelling of the summer heat. The trees open up on a large clearing with a cute pond that, at this time of the year, has water-lilies in full bloom. Perfect for a picnic date.

Since they always park at Derek’s house to get there, Allison offered to pick up the disaster dog from the vet for him. He’s been wanting to adopt her since he’s heard all about her adventures, bringing his adopted stray count up to four. Well– five, if you count Stiles, who has taken almost permanent residence at the Hale house. If only they could both, after ten years of pinning, stop denying the obvious…

“–and I just got an email from Malia, too,” Lydia catches Allison up on the latest updates from their friends outside of Beacon Hills. More often than not, it’s Lydia who handles the social aspects of their shared life, simply because she loves it so much. She always spices the catch up sessions with little commentaries that crack Allison up so much she waits eagerly for them every week. 

“What did she say?” Allison doesn't know Malia that much, having been training in France when she’s been around. And when she came back, Malia took her turn to leave to discover the world.

“Memes,” Lydia disapproves with a shake of the hand. “It's only memes, and I bet you I know exactly who taught her that,” Lydia fumes, making Allison laugh. 

And talking about the devil: the first face they see when they get inside Deaton's waiting room is none other than Stiles'.

“Uh,” he says, closing the magazine he was obviously not reading, “what are you doing here?”

Lydia crosses her arms while Allison takes an intimidating position right behind her shoulder -it's pure reflex. “What are  _ you _ doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm picking up the dog!”

“ _ We _ 're picking up the dog,” Allison frowns.

Stiles flails for a second, “Didn't you get my text?”

Allison opens her mouth but doesn't have a chance to answer before a loud beating sound makes them all look up as if they could see through the ceiling.

“What's a helicopter doing here?” Lydia’s surprise colors her voice.

“We're in pursuit of a dangerous suspect,” says a voice through speakers outside, “he is armed. Everyone, go back inside, and do not leave your building.”

They glance at each other in confusion.

“Did you know about this?”

Stiles shakes his head, shrugging. “Dad didn't tell me anything like this, nope.”

Allison looks over at Lydia, shoulders dropping. “Let's hope it doesn't take too long,” she grimaces.

“For your safety, please remain inside until further notice,” the voice repeats.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Lydia sighs, rolling her eyes. When she sees Allison's disappointed expression, she softens, but before she has a chance to say anything, Stiles interrupts her.

“You could say this is a bit of an inside joke?”

“Stilinski, I swear to the gods if you make another joke I'll slap you!”

Allison loses her serious face and laughs at that, so Lydia turns to her and drops a quick kiss on her lips. “We have all day, don't worry,” she smiles.

**4: When falling was the easiest thing to do**

In the end, with the search taking almost half the day, they spent the best hours playing cards locked up in Deaton’s waiting room. Thankfully, he had some stuff in his fridge that wasn’t pet food, because they obviously left the picnic in the car. Stiles had offered to grab it quickly, but with their usual luck they just decided not to risk it.

Allison, at the end of her date-disasters rope, asked Lydia if a simple good-food-and-a-move date night at home would be alright with her. And so, with Lydia’s blessing and fresh products from the grocery store, Allison puts some music on and heads for the kitchen. 

It’s not that Lydia doesn’t cook, she’s even more than decent at it; but Allison took quite a passion to it. It’s come to a point where Lydia regularly tries to convince her to make something out of it. Allison, though, likes her little kitchen and the simplicity of knowing she’s cooking only for her loved ones. 

“What are you making?” Lydia asks from the living room.

Allison opens the bags and lines up everything she needs on the table. “One of my grandma's recipes,” she answers vaguely. Lydia yawns quite loudly from the living room, causing Allison to cover one of her own in response. “Just give me five minutes to...,” she mumbles to herself, trailing off while she's looking for the missing ingredient.

After some long minutes of unsuccessful searching, she turns to the living room. “Lyds, did you see the–” She freezes in the doorway. Well, this is too cute.

Lydia is fast asleep on the couch. Her head is bent at such an awkward angle that Allison needs to fix it before Lydia gets neck pains. Looking at her watch, she figures the cooking can wait five minutes that Lydia’s done napping; it’s a little too late to sleep without regretting it at actual bed time, but Allison just doesn’t have the heart to wake her up. 

She sits down as softly as she can and slowly moves Lydia until she’s resting against her, head pillowed on Allison’s shoulder. 

Taking a deep, contented breath that fills her nose with Lydia's sweet scent under the smell of her expensive shampoo, Allison snuggles a little closer.

She's just resting her eyes, she tells herself. She's not even tired so she won't fall asleep.

She's still telling herself that, as she drifts off. She wakes up to that thought early the next morning, Lydia's warm body still pressed so close that she lets herself be taken by sleep for a few hours more.

**5: When they were not amused**

Allison holds the map with the very serious air of someone who knows exactly what the program is. She has memorized where every exit is, when to get to what attraction, where they're going to eat, and the itinerary between all those points. 

She's not taking any chances with this date. 

Lydia usually likes having at least some control over things, except when Allison surprises her of course, but today she lets her have this one. Allison takes the ruined dates really hard and has started to see this as a mission. It’s a little irritating but a whole lot endearing, so Lydia smiles fondly as Allison takes the lead.

Amusement parks are not their usual scene; Lydia doesn’t know what sparked Allison’s interest but she’s not entirely sure she appreciates it -though she will never, ever show it. It’s just that she doesn’t really care for the two rides they get on in the morning -adrenaline highs are  _ not _ for her- and the souvenir shops are a little too cheesy of kid-centered for her taste. But Allison, as focused and frowny as she is, seems to enjoy it, so Lydia tries to love it too. 

When it comes time to eat, Allison pulls Lydia by the hand to a secluded part of the park. Lydia has no idea where everything comes from, but Allison spreads blanket and food on the soft grass and sighs contentedly. 

The day started perfect, so Allison’s shoulders lose some of their tension. 

“You know,” she starts, “I’m really happy we’re doing this,” she smiles wistfully. “My parents were never really into amusement parks. I mean, I did a lot of cool stuff growing up and I loved archery and all that but...I always felt like I missed out on something every other kid got to do.” 

She looks over the expense separating them from the rides, eyes falling on the obvious goblin in the fur suit. It’s pretty disturbing, actually. She mutters, “I mean, I get why...this place is just like Ikea.”

Lydia looks at her for a long moment. She never went to places like these as a kid either, but she never felt left out because of it. She understands the sentiment, though, especially with the many responsibilities Allison had to take ever since high school. 

It’s in her character to take care and help people, to use her strength to make them happy. Lydia is more than included in the sentiment: ever since they became friends, Allison has supported her, protected her. Been like a knight to the princess Lydia used to dream to be as a little girl.

So Lydia feels her infamous determination mounting; she can be a pretty dominating person -and they’ve used that in a lot of ways since getting together. It’s not like Allison is the only one taking care of the other, she just thrives on the role, and she needs to let go once in a while too. 

And let go she will today, Lydia swears to herself. Allison deserves to enjoy the rest of the day without any restraint, free of her worries.

Lydia gets up, extends a hand for Allison to take. “Come on then!”

Allison looks up at her curiously, taking her hand in a act of casual trust that burns through Lydia in the best of ways. “We’ll do things properly,” she announces. 

Allison smiles and lets herself be pulled to her feet, taking the chance to fall into Lydia and kiss her. They’ve been married for years now, but Lydia’s heart starts beating as hard as the first day together. 

And just as they laugh and consider the fact that they haven’t eaten yet…

It starts raining.

  
  


**And 1: When improvisation is the best plan**

That night they go to bed quietly, exhausted from the roller-coaster of emotions and disappointment, from running through the pouring rain to the car and riding home soaked to the bone. 

But they don't find sleep.

Tossing and turning in the dim light, Lydia settles on her side and looks over at Allison to find her with her arms crossed under her head, eyes wide open. Her heart squeezes painfully at the sight. 

“Hey,” Lydia whispers, sliding her leg under the cover until it’s pressed along Allison’s.

Allison turns her head, frees a hand to tuck Lydia’s hair behind her ear. “Hey,” she answers. “I'm sorry all our dates went wrong,” she whispers. 

Lydia can’t let the guilt written on Allison’s face stand. “It’s nothing you had any control over,” she says, “and we don’t need date nights to love and cherish each other, right?”

“I know,” Allison half smiles, dimple as absent on her face as joy. “But I just like the idea of being extra romantic on special nights, and this feels like something doesn’t want us to be extra happy.” She looks down like she said something silly and she’s a bit ashamed of it. 

Lydia sighs. “Okay,” she suddenly sits up in bed. “Let’s do this.” She gets up, ignoring Allison’s sound of confusion, and goes to the kitchen. She might not use it often but she still knows where everything is. Opening up fridge and pantries, she gathers all the snacks she can find, some drinks, and goes back to drop everything on the bed.

Hands on her hips, she considers her work for a second in the light of the bedside lamp Allison’s turned on. Lydia glances at her bewildered face, narrows her eyes, and spins on her heels to go grab everything else they need.

Candles, the scented ones Lydia is always hesitant to use, afraid to waste them. Fancy glasses, even if there’s nothing fancy in the drinks she’s brought to bed. A pretty blanket. 

By the time she’s back into the room, Allison has her hair up in business mode and her nicest pajama on instead of her usual tank top. She’s caught on to Lydia’s plan, then.

Lydia spreads the blanket on top of the covers and Allison’s legs, arranges the snacks, lights candles away from the curtains, turns off the light, and puts on the sexy nightdress she hasn’t used in ages. 

“It  _ is _ called date night, after all,” she smiles playfully at Allison who’s reflecting her look back at her. “What better time than,” she checks the clock, “three forty?”

Allison laughs, eyes shining in the warm candlelight. Lydia is so overwhelmed with love that she can’t help jumping on her, snacks’ bags crunching under her knees. She kisses Allison, soft and chaste. Her breath tastes like mint, making Lydia pull back. “Did you brush your teeth while I was gone?” she giggles, joy mingling with exhaustion and turning to euphoria.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll wait for a bit before drinking the orange juice,” Allison deadpans. They both start laughing so much they fall back into the bed, head buried in each other’s hair, tickling them and setting them off again until they’re breathless. 

They look at each other, tangled in each other and wondering how they got so lucky. To have survived the hell of their high school years, so they could have this. 

“Remember the day I asked you to marry me?” Allison asks Lydia.

“I do,” Lydia answers, putting her head on Allison’s shoulder. She remembers the pine scent in the air, the glistening water looking like fairy lights, the fire inside of her when Allison got down to one knee. “You told me that you didn’t know as much as I did,” she huffs, “and I started arguing with you about that before you could say the rest.”

Allison laughs, and Lydia gently pokes at her dimple.

“And when you stopped laughing at me,” Lydia continues, “you started over and said that you did know two things.”

“I still do,” Allison whispers, running a hand through Lydia’s hair, breathing the same air, heart beating the same rhythm. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> _"I do know two things"_   
>  _"What is that?"_   
>  _"I love you."_   
>  _"I love you too. What's the other thing?"_   
>  _"You just said it."_
> 
> **Comments and kudos feed me**


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